


and it is my role to keep you

by anonymousAlchemist



Series: Terrible AU's to break your heart. [2]
Category: Over the Garden Wall (Cartoon)
Genre: Gen, another installment of Beast!greg and Woodsman!Wirt, but can be read without knowledge of it, or: a coda to Burdens, sad as fuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-25
Updated: 2014-11-25
Packaged: 2018-02-26 22:48:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2669273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anonymousAlchemist/pseuds/anonymousAlchemist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is Wirt’s life now. </p>
<p>You wander around the woods sort of aimlessly, eyes peeled for the specific sort of tree with the specific sort of oil. Check the lantern periodically, stare at the dancing flame inside. Your brother’s soul. Your responsibility. </p>
<p>Sometimes you think about letting it go out. The thought leaves a bitter taste in your mouth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	and it is my role to keep you

**Author's Note:**

> Or, a coda to “Burdens” that kind of spiraled out of control. Epilogues are not supposed to be longer than the actual story, Isabel. Ergo, I posted it as it’s own thing, but it would really help to read “Burdens” first-although I suppose the tl;dr version is that this is an alternate universe where Wirt became the Woodsman and Greg became the beast. 
> 
> Enjoy!

You wake around noon, blinking sleepy eyes in the afternoon sunlight. You get dressed. Underthings, shirt, pants, suspenders, socks, shoes, cape, hat. Done. Brush teeth, wash face, study the angles and planes of it. Reflect on age and the passage of time.

Pick up the lantern from the bedside table. Check oil levels. Safe, but better go looking for some more edelwood tonight.

Try not to think about cutting down the edelwood. Fail. 

(Remember the chop-chop of branches and oil dripping from face-like crevices, remember the feel of roots creeping on skin.)

Walk downstairs, carrying the lantern. Say hello to Beatrice’s siblings. Say hello to Beatrice’s mom, say thank you again for letting him stay at their home. She waves you off, saying she has plenty of kids, not like one more is going to make a difference. She places a plate of food in front of you, tells you to eat your dirt.

You eat your dirt. You talk with Beatrice’s siblings, ask where Beatrice is. One of them gestures at the door, says, “Somewhere out exploring, I think.” You nod. You finish your dirt. 

Pick up the lantern again. Pick up axe leaning besides the door. Sling axe over shoulder and go outside.  
Meander over to the small brook near the house. Follow it upstream a half a mile or so. Keep eyes peeled for Edelwoods, for leaking oil. It’s nice out, crisp but not cold. Think about how Greg would have enjoyed a day like this. Stop yourself from thinking about it.

Find Beatrice sitting by the stream with her dog, skipping stones. Or at least attempting to. She looks at you and smiles. 

“Wirt!” she says.  
“Beatrice!” you say. 

You sit down next to her. You hadn’t expected her to be beautiful, when she was a bluebird. 

Ask why she’s out here. 

She tells you the house was getting claustrophobic. Nod sympathetically. Ask if she’d like to come with you, tonight. She shakes her head regretfully. Tells you that she promised her little sisters that she’d read them a book tonight. 

She’s been trying to be a better older sister, these days. You’re trying to be a better older brother too. She tells you to say hi to Greg for her, and you nod. Ok. You can do that. 

Beatrice asks where you’re going, today, and whether you’ll be back home by dawn or if you’ll stay out. Shrug. You’re not sure. Depends on if you find an Edelwood or not.

“Is the lantern running out?” she asks.  
You shrug again. It’s getting a little low for your liking. It’s her turn to be sympathetic. She rummages in a back next to her, and pulls out a wrapped parcel.

“It’s bread and cheese,” she says. “I brought it for dinner but you might want it if you’re going to be out late. I should head back home soon anyway. I heard that there were some travelers up near Auntie Whispers, by the way. You might want to check there.” 

You smile at her and say thank you. (Squash the voice in your head that marvels at the cruelty of hoping for another lost traveler’s death.) You don’t know what you’d do without her and her family. You take the parcel, tie it to your belt. You take your axe in hand and lantern in other. You walk away from her, into the woods. She watches your figure recede. 

You wander around the woods, sort of aimlessly, eyes peeled for the specific sort of tree with the specific sort of oil. Check the lantern periodically, stare at the dancing flame inside. Your brother’s soul. Your responsibility. 

Sometimes you think about letting it go out. The thought leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. 

It gets dark early these days. You used to hate it, but these days you’re grateful. By eight the light is dimming, the sun is setting. You still haven’t found an Edelwood. 

Stop by a random tree, sit down. Set lantern and axe next to you. Take out Beatrice’s parcel. Stick cheese between torn bread. Watch the sun set as you eat your makeshift sandwich. Lean your head against the bark.

Wait for your brother. 

Soon after night falls, he comes. You see his eyes first, bright and luminous in the dark. 

“Wirt! Me and Jason Funderberker missed you!,” he says, a small shadowy figure that throws himself at you for a hug. You hug him back. “Hiya Greg. Get off me, will you?” 

“No.” He clings for another moment, but then relents. You get up, picking up lantern and axe. 

“Are we looking for more trees, Wirt?”  
“Yeah, Greg.” 

The two of you walk into the darkness, followed by frog Jason Funderberker. You hold the lantern high. Greg sings as you walk, and you hum absently along. 

You’re sort of worried. You’d really like to find an Edelwood soon. 

Eventually, you end up at the old inn around nine-thirty. You tell Greg to wait outside, that you’re going to go in for a moment. He assents cheerfully. 

The innsfolk are wary around you. You don’t blame them. The innkeeper brings you food without asking. You eat the food. You ask for directions to Auntie Whispers house, and you say thank you when you receive them. You leave as quickly as possible.

Most people make you uncomfortable these days. 

You follow the directions as best you can, and Greg chatters as you walk, his facial expressions visible through the contortions of his eyes. You nod and answer him, sometimes adding a comment of your own. You’re sort of preoccupied, though. You’re still looking for Edelwoods. 

Eventually you find one, purely by accident. It’s growing in the middle of the path, thick and getting taller. Orifices bleeding black-ink-blood. Greg cheers. 

“Found one, Wirt!” 

“Yeah Greg, you found one. Now stand back, ok? I have to cut this down. Watch the lantern.”

You set the lantern down. You take the axe in two hands.

You take a deep breath.

You swing, and lodge the blade deep into the wood.

Chop.

You wonder who the Edelwood used to be.

Chop.

Maybe they had family, back home, who are worried about them.

Chop.

Maybe they had a girlfriend, or boyfriend. Maybe they made them mixtapes.

Chop.

Maybe they had a brother.

Chop.

Oil droplets fall. Small chips of wood flake off. The tree is reduced to an immense stack of wood. Enough to last you for days. You’re sweating. Your hands are shaking. It’s not because you’re tired. You want to cry. You feel nauseous. 

“Wirt?” Greg says, tugging on the edge of your cloak.

"Yeah Greg?"  
“Are you done yet? Why are you crying?”  
“Yeah Greg, I’m done. No reason. I’m not crying.”

You turn to face him. He’s holding the lantern, one eye closed and the other peering into it’s depths. 

“Hey, could you hand me the lantern?”  
“Sure, brother o’mine!”

He holds it out. It amazes you, that he would just hand over his soul so carelessly. He trusts you too much. 

You take the lantern. You pick up the axe.

“Thanks Greg. Help me pile this wood, alright?”  
“Okay.”

The two of you pile the chopped, oil-slick wood into a rough mound. You wipe your hand on your cloak. You yawn. It’s too late to go back to Beatrice’s now. That’s ok. You’ll just sleep outside for the night. You lie down at the foot of one of the many surrounding trees. Greg sits next to you.

“Are you going to sleep, Wirt?”  
“Yeah Greg.”  
“Okay, I will too then.”

You don’t fear the forest anymore. The most terrifying thing in it is curled up next to you, grabbing your cloak with his small hands. You wrap your arms around your brother.

You’ll take the wood back to Beatrice’s tomorrow, you think. Then you’ll take the day off. Sit outside in the sunlight. Read a book. Do some chores for Beatrice’s mom.

As dawn breaks, you sleep. You do not dream.

**Author's Note:**

> I swear the next thing I write won’t be sad. Ha. I’m lying.  
> Come talk to me at kissingyourkismesis.tumblr.com for more otgw and other assorted interwobs stuff. 
> 
> thanks to compuhorse for looking it over. You told me not to credit you, but I did, because you're cool bro and you don't control me, you don't control my life, i'll credit you if i want dammit


End file.
